


The Key

by toyhto



Series: Something to Care About [2]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Dubious Consent, M/M, Rough Sex, Threats of Violence, this is a sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25526134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: This is the end, and what is left before it is the voices Robin makes when he doesn't know what he wants.
Relationships: Bane (DCU)/John Blake
Series: Something to Care About [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849414
Comments: 14
Kudos: 66





	The Key

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a sequel to [Something to Care About](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230178). I strongly suggest you read it first. What I also strongly suggest is that if you're looking for fluff or romantic comedy or feel uneasy about the dubious consent tag, you don't read this story.

Days go by.  
  
Days, days, days.  
  
Nothing is new.  
  
They come and go. The guards. But mostly, they stay away. Someone brings him food twice a day. The poor little fucker looks scared. When Bane doesn’t say anything to him, he looks more scared. The next day, there’s a new guard, and then another, and another. Maybe someone somewhere doesn’t trust people to come near Bane. Wise. Only, he’s tired of talking. If they’re afraid of the things he might say to the guards, there’s no need. He’s too tired.  
  
They want him to see the doctor. They bring five guards before that, fill him with sedatives and then chain him to the table carefully. If he weren’t so weak… but he is. He closes his eyes and hears their voices through the haziness of the drugs. They strip him naked and poke at him with their needles and their gloved hands, talk about his chest where the wounds are still fresh and unhealed. They don’t sound worried. They are curious and disgusted and confused but not worried. They’re discussing why he’s healing so quickly. They’re both complementing and criticizing whoever patched him up.  
  
John Blake, he thinks in his hazy mind. John Robin Blake. The fucking idiot.  
  
They leave him there for a while longer. He’s still naked, still drugged, still chained to the table. He drifts away without wanting to. When he comes back, it’s from the middle of a dream in which Talia was alive.  
  
John Blake wanted to know if he loved her. As if the answer changed anything.  
  
He’s not thinking much about John Blake. If this is where he dies, it’s just a coincidence that the last person who talked to him was John Blake. The last person who looked him in the eyes. Just a coincidence. It could have been someone else.  
  
But not anyone. He knows that. Some things, they are better when they aren’t thought about, but some things, they’re too obvious to be avoided. He’s not exactly sure yet what unfortunate personality trait it was in John Blake that kept the man from killing him. Maybe it was insanity. But he doubts that.  
  
He’s been lying naked on the table for a while when they wash him and unchain him and leave him in the cell with the same clothes they gave him the first day. He sits down on the floor for a while before he puts them on. It doesn’t matter either way. But the cell isn’t warm, and he’s tired, and it’s easier not to be cold.  
  
Days, days, days, passing by like the guards’ faces through the shutter. He knows he should count them but doesn’t bother.The days, not the guards. He’s not dead yet, so he should count the days. He should know for how long he’s been here. It’s not acceptable to be content on dying in a cell. And he’s here for nothing. But he’s tired, and Talia is dead.  
  
 _I think you loved her,_ the little cop said. _Did you love her? I think you loved her._ Maybe there are some people in the world who need love to explain everything. Idiots. Even though at this case, they would be right. He shouldn’t be surprised that John Blake is one of them. Maybe if he had said it the right way, with the right tone, John Blake would have forgiven him for anything. Just because he loved Talia and Talia wanted him to do it. John Blake would think the main thing isn’t that he did things that John Blake never would, the main thing is that he loved someone. John Blake needs a story and would use love in every page.  
  
And maybe - he thinks about it at night when he’s cold and in pain and can’t fall asleep and somebody somewhere very far is screaming - maybe John Blake is using _love_ for his own story. He let Bane fuck him. He asked for it. He didn’t kill Bane when he should have, and he didn’t have the strength to torture Bane even though he told himself he would. He tended Bane’s wounds and fed him and bought him clothes and made him sit on the sofa and watch television. He let Bane sleep in his bed and use his body and finally, he helped Bane to escape.  
  
Bane didn’t get far. But that wasn’t Robin’s fault.  
  
And now, _now,_ Robin is in his flat, trying to figure out how to explain all this to himself.  
  
Maybe he’s using _love._  
  
The poor fucker.  
  
  
**  
  
  
They’re trying to make him talk. He’s not sure about what, and they aren’t either. They try everything they can, like children holding a knife for the first time. He thinks about the things that never were: an endless winter in the mountains, Talia and him where no one could reach them. That’s a lie, there was no place far enough. But his life is over so maybe he can allow himself a tiny amount of dreaming. They would have a purpose, he and Talia, in his dream they would have a fight to fight, but nothing that couldn’t be won. Nothing that would end with death as a victory. At night, they would sleep inside the stone walls, and there would be a fire, and they would have furs, and through the walls they could hear the wind crying. He would never touch Talia if Talia didn’t want him to. But she would. In a dream, she would. She wouldn’t see the mask, or the body that’s too much for a human. She would see _him_ , and they’d fuck in a bed full of hides, in front of the hearth. They’d fuck until they’d be exhausted and covered in sweat and couldn’t breathe anymore. He’d be careful with her, much more careful than he was with John Blake. He wouldn’t hurt her. And later, they would sleep.  
  
He sleeps and wakes up to their feeble attempts of torture.  
  
Not as feeble as John Blake’s, though.  
  
He dreams about John Blake once or twice, too. He dreams about taking John Blake’s face in between his hands and snapping his neck. He wakes up and vomits in the corner of his cell and no one comes to clean it.  
  
He dreams about fucking John Blake, too. In the dream he’s strong again. No wounds, no broken ribs, no pain. He takes Robin the way he wants but doesn’t break him. There’s no reason to. Robin is easy enough as he is. He fucks Robin against the wall and Robin wriggles in his hands but doesn’t tell him to stop. Probably knows he wouldn’t listen. But every time he thinks it’s going to be too much for Robin, he slows down, and the dream slows down too. Everything takes ages. He’s got his fingers wrapped around Robin’s cock and he’s not letting Robin to come, and he’ll fuck into Robin’s ass and hold Robin up when his legs give out, and it will go on endlessly. He never comes. Robin never comes. He pets Robin’s hair and Robin cries with relief and frustration.  
  
And there’s one dream in which Robin feeds him strawberries. That’s an odd one.  
  
The people who torture him are weak. They are supposed to make him fear them, but they can’t, because they’re so afraid of him. They do their best, though. He doesn’t blame them. He thinks about the strawberries and John Blake and fucking and the shows they watched on the television when he was sitting on John Blake’s sofa.  
  
They ask him who’s coming for him. One time, he laughs.  
  
No one’s coming for him.  
  
  
**  
  
  
They call it interrogation. Maybe that’s why they can’t make up their mind about how to torture him. Too bad for them, but he wouldn’t talk anyway. There’s nothing to tell. So, he lets them chain him up again and waits for the whole thing to begin, closes his eyes, thinks about nothing, and then he recognizes a voice.  
  
He opens his eyes. John Blake is staring at him.  
  
“He’s not said anything yet, sir,” one of the others is saying to John Blake. “But we’ll take turns anyway. You’ll get the idea soon enough.”  
  
“I can see why you wanted to be transferred here,” someone else says. There’s five of them. Bane blinks. Five of them, and Robin. “We’re going to get so much credit from this once he finally talks.”  
  
Robin nods, but he’s staring at Bane. His eyes are wide and relieved. He’s even a bigger idiot than Bane thought.  
  
Bane should close his eyes but he can’t.  
  
The others talk to Robin with respect, call him _sir_ sometimes, but won’t let him do much, as if it’s art or something that they’re doing to Bane. It’s not. But he thinks Robin is happy that he doesn’t need to touch Bane, which is a clear fucking sign that he shouldn’t be here. He’s staring with his little brown eyes shocked like he wants to unchain Bane and take him out of here. If Bane wasn’t chained, he might hit the idiot in the face. But he is, so he only watches Robin, and Robin watches him. The whole thing is a lot more unpleasant than it used to be now that there’s someone here who sees him.  
  
After they’re done with him, they leave him alone. The others tell Robin that it’s alright that he didn’t talk. They think Robin might be disappointed. They tell Robin that they’re going to break Bane eventually. And then their voices fade as they walk away, and Bane closes his eyes.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Hey,” someone says.  
  
He wakes up from a dream in which he was sleeping with Talia, only they were both dead. The dream lingers like a bad taste in the mouth, and then he blinks and sees the face through the shutter. As if he didn’t recognize the voice.  
  
He sits up on the floor.  
  
“No one’s listening,” Robin says. It’s a mystery why he’s whispering then. “I took care of that.” He clears his throat, looking like he’s waiting to hear he did well. His tiny little face is showing too many emotions. He’s frightened and worried and excited and relieved. He’s a mess. Just the way he used to be.  
  
“Why’re you here?” Bane asks.  
  
Robin looks like he knew Bane would ask and hoped he wouldn’t. He clears his throat. He looks lovely. “I couldn’t just…” Then he pauses, clearly realizes that what he’s about to say is madness.  
  
“And what do you think you’re going to do now? Help the others to torture me? And pet my hair when they look the other way?”  
  
Robin’s face goes a little whiter. It’s sweet. Bane has always had a weakness for small things. He thought he had it under control, but apparently not. Or maybe it was because of the timing. Robin found him when he was about to die. Nothing to lose there.  
  
“They can’t keep doing that,” Robin says, but at least it’s obvious from his face that he knows they can.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Bane says. He should shut up. It’s a ridiculous thought that he would try to make John Blake feel better for having to torture him. But that’s what he’s doing. “I’ve had worse.”  
  
“It’s not right.”  
  
“It’s dull, that’s what it is.”  
  
“You don’t mean that.”  
  
Of course he doesn’t mean that. But Robin is going to participate, and he’s going to feel guilty about it anyway. The idiot is soft like that. There’s no reason why Bane should make it worse.  
  
There’s probably a thousand reasons why Robin shouldn’t be here, and why Bane shouldn’t care if he is. But he’s not going to think about that just yet.  
  
“How about the injuries?” Robin asks in a quiet, concerned voice, like an idiot that he is. “Are you healing?”  
  
“Slowly,” Bane says. “But yes.”  
  
Robin takes a deep breath. “Good.”  
  
“You patched me up well,” Bane says, just to see the look in Robin’s eyes.  
  
“I’m glad you’re getting better,” Robin says, and then something shifts on his face. A hint of common sense, perhaps. “I should go.”  
  
“Yes,” Bane says, “you should.” He doesn’t want him to. But Robin’s not going to know. No one’s going to know. Maybe he’s losing it, but his life is already over, so it doesn’t matter much.  
  
Robin leaves. Bane stares at the door for a long time after. The silence is ringing in his ears. The injuries in his chest ache. He rests his back against the wall and closes his eyes.  
  
He falls asleep only much later, but when he does, he dreams about fucking Robin. They’re in Robin’s bed. He’s on his back on the mattress, holding Robin’s body, moving it up and down again so that his cock disappears into Robin’s hole. Robin keeps saying that he would never let anyone else do it. He’s crying when he comes.  
  
Bane wakes up with a new headache and a hard-on. He ignores both and they fade. Funny how his fantasies are more versatile than he knew.  
  
  
**  
  
  
The next time he sees John Blake is when they expect John Blake to beat him. He closes his eyes. It’s going to be easier that way.  
  
He doesn’t want to think about why he needs it to be easier for Robin, so he doesn’t. He keeps his face calm and his eyes closed and hopes Robin will pull himself together and fucking hit him for real. It seems that somehow, no one has figured out that Robin kept Bane alive and tried to help him escape Gotham. It’d be a shame if now when Robin has already gotten away with it, someone would start wondering why he’s petting Bane when he’s supposed to be beating him.  
  
He opens his eyes for a moment to look at Robin. Robin’s flushed and out of breath and looks like he doesn’t know what to do. The other cops maybe don’t realize that, but they haven’t seen Robin in the ruins of the city hall, holding a gun at Bane’s face and failing to shoot him. He takes a deep breath and tries to give Robin an encouraging look or bullshit like that. Robin falters at first, and then he hits Bane in the face. For real. Almost like he means it.  
  
“Good lord,” someone says, “that was rough, sir. I don’t know if we’re supposed to hit him on the mask. If it breaks down, we don’t know who can fix it.”  
  
“Sorry,” Robin says in a flat tone.  
  
“No need to apologize, sir.”  
  
And it goes on. Bane keeps his eyes open from now on, because it’s nice to look at Robin. Robin’s lost weight, though. And he doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping. And Bane doesn’t _care_ , of course not, but he doesn’t need Robin to kill himself either.  
  
When it’s over, they leave him in the cell and go. Robin goes with them. He listens to his heartbeat. It’s the first thing he remembers when back in the pit, the doctors tried to fix him. He drifted in the darkness for a while and when they pulled him back, everything he could feel or hear at first was the pain, and his heart. It was like that for a long time.  
  
The pain, and the heart.  
  
Maybe it’s not so different now. He listens to his heartbeat and thinks about what Talia would say to him, what Talia would want from him now. But that doesn’t go anywhere. Talia never thought there was a possibility that she would die and he would not.  
  
She would not have wanted him to die, though. Not like this.  
  
He dreams of her and Robin, and sometimes they’re the same person. He doesn’t like those dreams. The ones he likes are those in which Talia is alive and safe and far away from here, and he’s with her. But he doesn’t mind the dreams in which he’s in the sewers with Robin and they fuck and Robin comes apart in his hands and wants to kiss him later. The idiot.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Robin comes to him again.  
  
“John Blake,” he says through the shutter. He just had another dream of Robin.  
  
“Everything alright?” Robin asks. His voice is tense and worried.  
  
“Perfect.”  
  
“Are they feeding you?” He pauses for a moment. “Are _we_ feeding you?”  
  
“Yeah,” Bane tells him. “You’re keeping me alive.”  
  
“Good,” he says, doesn’t recognize the irony. “There’s some talk about the trial. But it gets postponed every time. I think that’s because someone up the ladder thinks we might get more information from you before that.”  
  
“Works with me.”  
  
“I suppose you aren’t going to talk.”  
  
“There’s nothing to tell,” Bane says. Robin looks a little disappointed. The fucker thought Bane would pour his heart out for him and he could be a hero. “The only thing I could tell them is that there’s a cop who refused to kill me and then hid me in his home and helped me escape.”  
  
Robin bites his lip.  
  
“I’m not going to tell them about you.”  
  
“Thanks,” Robin says. He sounds surprised.  
  
“Robin,” Bane says and then pauses, because Robin looks even more surprised. Maybe that was because of the name. But Bane’s called him Robin before. That’s the name Robin gave him. “What do you think you’re doing?”  
  
“I don’t know yet,” Robin says.  
  
“Maybe I should ask you to finish the job and kill me.”  
  
“Absolutely not.”  
  
“Are you trying to help me escape again?”  
  
Robin doesn’t answer. He hovers there at the cell’s door for a while and then tells Bane he needs to be somewhere. But before he leaves, he says he’s going to come back.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Days go by and Robin doesn’t come back for him. When the guards come to chain him to the wall to get on with their interrogations, he keeps glancing at the door, but Robin stays away. So, maybe Robin isn’t insane after all. Maybe he’s back home, sitting on his sofa and watching television. Maybe he’s found himself something else to play with. Maybe he’s got a girlfriend.  
  
“We need names,” says one of the cops. “Everyone who’s left. And where we can find them. We need…”  
  
Bane closes his eyes.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He doesn’t particularly like the electric shocks. They mess with his head. When he sleeps, he’s back in the city hall, and everything is crumbling, and Robin walks to him in slow motion like a fucking hero, kneels in front of him and touches his face. He doesn’t break Robin’s wrist. Robin strips him naked right there, only now he’s in Robin’s apartment, in Robin’s bed, exactly where Robin had him in the end, and he has Robin in the sheets on his back and begging for it, but he’s taking it slow, because Robin is small, Robin’s hole is tight and unused and Robin doesn’t know what he wants, he needs Bane to control this for him. He needs Bane to hold him down and push into him so slowly it’s going to take a lifetime but it’s not going to hurt. There’s no need for him to hurt Robin. He doesn’t hurt people for pleasure.  
  
He wakes up cold. He’s got a headache like someone’s hitting his head with a blunt hammer from the inside. There’s no way to tell for how long he’s slept, or how long until they come for him again.  
  
He sits up against the wall and doesn’t sleep.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Someone comes to see him. A small man with eyeglasses. Commissioner Gordon, they tell him, and Commissioner Gordon wants to talk to him. Normally he would laugh at the man but now he’s not in the mood. He began trying to count the days but can’t even tell the day from the night. He doesn’t know how many days it’s been since Robin came to him. At least three.  
  
“I really need him to talk,” the commissioner says to the others, after he’s finally realized that Bane’s not going to do small talk with him. “Are you really trying everything? And when I say everything, I -”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“I don’t mean anything too… illegal.” The commissioner looks around in the cell, like he’s afraid of what he might see there. “I just need you to convince him. To talk.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” A pause. “It’s a little difficult, sir.”  
  
“Just keep trying,” the commissioner says and leaves.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He has a dream in which he fucks Robin in this cell. Robin tells him to stop. He doesn’t listen. He drags it out until Robin is so eager to come that he’s crying.  
  
“Bane,” Robin says.  
  
He opens his eyes and blinks. Robin’s looking at him through the shutter.  
  
It’s been at least four days since the last time Robin came to see him. _At least._ And he doesn’t fucking care. Robin means nothing to him. All that Robin is good for is amusement, because he’s so bloody naive, so stupid, so innocent. Bane had his cock buried in Robin’s ass and still Robin somehow manages to be an innocent fucking idiot.  
  
He sits up, his cock still hard from the dream.  
  
“Were you sleeping?” Robin asks, narrowing his eyes and inspecting him. As if he fucking cares.  
  
“You didn’t come back,” Bane says.  
  
Robin blinks. “What?”  
  
“Here. You didn’t come back. You were away for four days.”  
  
“Three,” Robin says slowly. “I was needed elsewhere.”  
  
“Who needed you?”  
  
“The city.” There’s a pause. Bane can hear Robin breathing in and out. His cock still hasn’t given up on the dream, and it doesn’t help that Robin’s right there. And it can’t have been only three days. “I needed to do my job.”  
  
“Your job,” he says, watching Robin. “As a cop.”  
  
“I asked that I could be involved in your… your case. And they agreed. But they needed me doing something else for a couple of days.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like arresting people.”  
  
“You were out there, arresting people.”  
  
“Yes,” Robin says. “What the hell are we talking about?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Bane says and closes his eyes for a second. His head feels heavy. It’s better now that Robin’s here, but the dream lingers, the cell is fucking cold and he hates these walls. He should’ve died with Talia. He should have made Robin kill him. He should’ve done better job at asking Robin. “Come here.”  
  
Robin looks so surprised, and then angry, but he’s angry at himself too. Bane can tell.  
  
“I’m not going to do that,” Robin says. So stubborn.  
  
“Do you have a gun?”  
  
Robin just stares at him.  
  
“Robin,” he says, “do you have a gun?”  
  
Robin nods.  
  
“Open the door and come here.”  
  
“I can’t do that.”  
  
“Yes, you can,” Bane says. “It’s easy. Just do it. Or are you scared of me now?”  
  
Robin stares at him for a moment and then starts fumbling with the lock. If Bane was someone else, he might smile now. It was so easy. And a trick. Robin’s always been scared of him. There’s nothing new to that. Robin was scared of him even when he had his dick in Robin’s arse and he was fucking Robin into the mattress. The boy’s just an idiot.  
  
Robin opens the cell door, walks inside and closes the door behind himself. Then he stands there, staring at Bane. He’s breathing hard and squeezing the key in his fist. Bane could take that from him so easily. He’d only have to break a few bones.  
  
“You look like shit,” Robin says in a thin voice.  
  
“You don’t.”  
  
Robin shifts on his feet.  
  
“I suppose no one’s hit you on the face recently.”  
  
“I’m sorry about that,” Robin says and takes a step towards Bane, then stops himself. He looks like he’s having a silent argument with himself. He probably is. And Bane knows what it’s about. He’s seen it before, many times, in Robin’s flat, right from the beginning when Robin left him lying on the hallway floor in his own shit, bleeding and probably halfway out of his mind. He knows that look, and he knows Robin’s going to make the wrong choice. “I tried to tell them to stop it,” he says and takes another step to Bane, then kneels down on the floor like a fucking idiot. Just so that he can look Bane in the eyes. “The… interrogation. I said it’s not supposed to be like that. You should get a trial and…” He takes a deep breath. Bane looks at his throat. “But I don’t know what’s going to happen to you after the trial.”  
  
“I don’t mind the torture,” Bane says. “But I liked it better when you were there to beat me.”  
  
Robin clears his throat.  
  
“You could just watch the next time, if you don’t want to hurt me.”  
  
“Don’t say things like that, like I’m some kind of a sadist.”  
  
“I never thought you were,” Bane says. Robin is the opposite, the poor idiot. “Anyway, I know what happens after the trial. They’re going to shoot me in the head.”  
  
“No,” Robin says. “We don’t do that.” But he doesn’t seem certain.  
  
“It’s alright. I won’t hold it against you.”  
  
“You aren’t going to get shot. There’s going to be a proper trial and…”  
  
“You shouldn’t be here. What if someone sees you talking to me like this?”  
  
“They won’t,” Robin says. “I told everyone to stay away. No one’s supposed to come near you anyway, not without a good reason.”  
  
“Go home,” Bane says. Robin looks at him as if the suggestion is personally offending for him. That’s sweet. He’s wondering if Robin’s fucked anyone since Bane had him. But even if he has, that doesn’t count. And it’s not like Bane would be jealous. “Go home, quit the police and try to do something else. You’re young.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“You should find a girlfriend.”  
  
“You’re a lunatic.”  
  
“No, I hear some men actually like to have a girlfriend. Unless I fucked you up when we… you know.”  
  
“Shut the fuck up,” Robin says, but he’s on his knees on the floor and he’s crawling closer. That’s ridiculous. It’s a pity he can’t see what it looks like when he reaches to tug at the hem of Bane’s shirt. “How’s this healing?”  
  
“Fine,” Bane says and breathes in and out as Robin tugs his shirt up to see his chest. “The doctors here say you did a good job.”  
  
Robin looks happy about that, but only for a second. Then his eyes go wide but it’s too late, Bane already has his fingers around his throat. Robin’s heart is beating against his palm like a little bird. A pretty little bird that knows it’s going to die. He squeezes just enough that the breath catches in Robin’s throat, not enough to actually hurt him. There’s no need for that now.  
  
“You came here,” he tells Robin, “alone, and told the others not to disturb us. Then you opened the door into my cell and locked yourself inside with me. And then you walked to me and knelt down before me and wanted to touch my skin.”  
  
“I didn’t -” Robin says in a hoarse voice, “- touch your skin.”  
  
“You did.”  
  
“It was an accident.”  
  
“You’re scared,” Bane says, brushing his thumb against Robin’s chin. Robin flinches. “You’re so scared of me you could shit in your pants. And you came to me anyway.”  
  
“I’m not scared,” Robin says. He sounds scared. He _feels_ scared.  
  
“The fuck you aren’t,” Bane says, petting Robin’s chin with his thumb. Robin has a pretty face. He always thought so. “And don’t try anything. You must know how easy it’d be for me to kill you now.”  
  
He feels Robin swallow.  
  
“Well, of course I’m not going to kill you,” he says, brushing his thumb against Robin’s mouth. Robin’s breathing hard with his mouth half-open. “Am I strangling you?”  
  
Robin stares at him for a few long seconds. “No.”  
  
“Great,” he says, watching Robin’s mouth. “Am I hurting you?”  
  
“No,” Robin says, blinking. “Bane, I didn’t -”  
  
“You didn’t come here for this,” Bane says. “Well, of course you didn’t. You don’t have a fucking clue what you came here for. You don’t know what you’re doing. You were supposed to kill me but you didn’t, and then you let me fuck you instead. And you helped me escape and I ended up here and now you can’t let it go. You need to save me.”  
  
“I’m not trying to save you. No one could save you.”  
  
“You’re worried about your friends torturing me. And you’re worried that there’s going to be a trial and they’re going to list everything I’ve done and very sensibly shoot me and that’s going to be justice.”  
  
Robin breathes in his hands.  
  
“Which is the job you were supposed to do. But you couldn’t.”  
  
“I don’t _kill_ people,” Robin says.  
  
“I do.”  
  
Robin looks at him as if he’s wondering why Bane had to say it out loud and ruin the mood. He’s so stupid. And so sweet. Like a puppy. It’d be so easy to kick him in the head and kill him and he doesn’t even realize that, he just stays there hoping a little bit of love can fix everything.  
  
 _Shit._ Not love. Bane shouldn’t be thinking about _love._ And he’s not. He definitely isn’t thinking about love. He tightens his grip on Robin’s throat a little.  
  
“You’re hurting me now,” Robin says.  
  
“Alright,” Bane says and lets go. Robin almost falls onto his face, or in Bane’s lap, but he catches himself at the last second and sits back on the floor. He’s shaking as he raises his right hand and touches his throat. It’s still there. Bane didn’t break it.  
  
“What -”  
  
“You can leave,” Bane says.  
  
Robin just sits there and stares at him.  
  
“I’m not going to kill you,” he tells Robin. “As I said. And I don’t want to hurt you either. That’s not how I get off. So, you can leave.”  
  
Robin clears his throat. “Get off?”  
  
He looks at Robin and doesn’t think about his cock.  
  
“What happened…” Robin pauses and makes a vague gesture. “I mean, what you and I... “  
  
“I fucked you,” Bane says and watches as Robin’s cheeks turn pink.  
  
“Yeah, that. It was just that one time. It’s not going to happen again. Well, obviously it isn’t, because you’re in the… we couldn’t possibly do it here, that’d be insane. And uncomfortable. And probably cold. And I don’t even understand where I would… But anyway, it was never going to happen again.”  
  
“I’ve had a few dreams about you.”  
  
Robin freezes, staring at him.  
  
“Good dreams,” he says and then pauses. “Well, some of them weren’t exactly nice. I’m not going to give you any details. But it’s been a little surprising, really, how much I’ve been thinking about you. Maybe it fucked up my mind somehow that you kept me in your home. I don’t normally give much thought to fucking someone. I’m too busy.”  
  
“You aren’t busy now,” Robin says in a very quiet voice.  
  
He bites his lip. _Fucking hell._ “You’re either stupid or reckless.”  
  
“Or both.”  
  
“Or both,” he agrees. “Take off your trousers.”  
  
Robin shakes his head. “What’re you going to do? Strangle me?”  
  
“No,” Banes says, leaning back against the wall. His heart is beating too fast and he’s so hard he almost flinches when he shifts and his dick brushes against the fabric. Robin notices, he’s sure. “I’m not going to do anything to you,” he says. “I’m just going to sit here and watch you as you leave, and then I’ll be here, waiting, in case you decide to come back for me.”  
  
Robin stares at him. “ _Shit._ ”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I’m not doing this,” Robin says as he unzips his trousers. “I’m not like this.”  
  
“I’m sure.”  
  
“I didn’t come here for this. I’m not in love with you or anything, I’m not a total idiot, I just needed to make sure that you’re alright.”  
  
“Robin,” Bane says, “I’m not alright. I lost the game and I’m going to be dead soon enough.”  
  
Robin’s hands stop for a second, and then he tugs his trousers down his thighs. “So, I’m a consolation prize.”  
  
“Makes sense, doesn’t it.”  
  
“Nothing makes sense,” Robin says. He still has his boxers on. He’s not hard yet.  
  
“Push your boxers down.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“And come sit in my lap.”  
  
Robin looks at his lap. His cock is leaking, so there’s a stain.  
  
“Come sit in my lap,” he says again, “and rub your ass against my cock. If you do well, I’m going to jerk you off.”  
  
Robin pushes his boxers down his thighs. He’s moving slowly like he’s second-guessing everything, and certainly he is. Maybe he’s thinking about Bane’s hand on his throat just a moment ago. Maybe he’s thinking about how easily Bane could have mashed his windpipe, and how little reason there is for Bane not to. But he obviously doesn’t think about it carefully enough, because he crawls closer and sits down in Bane’s lap, settles himself so that the tip of Bane’s cock brushes against his ass. Bane grabs his cheeks and digs his fingers into the flesh. At least he’s naked where it counts.  
  
“Now what,” Robin says, as if he doesn’t know.  
  
Bane pushes him back and forth, just a little, just enough to drag his ass over where it counts.  
  
“Shouldn’t you take your trousers off?”  
  
“No,” Bane tells him. “Not this time. Think about where we are.” He gives Robin a few seconds to think about it - they are in the cell, and his pants are the only thing keeping him from pushing his cock into Robin’s ass, except for the tiny detail that it’d take him at least fifteen minutes to prepare Robin for that and Robin probably didn’t bring lube.  
  
And when Robin opens his mouth to say something, possibly something sensible, Bane presses his cock against Robin’s ass.  
  
Robin goes quiet and does what he’s been told.  
  
Bane tells him he’s good. He’s very good at this. He didn’t kill Bane when he had a chance, and that was a failure, but at least he’s good at this: at rubbing his ass against Bane’s cock while his own cock gets hard slowly. It takes some time to get him shaking. That could be because he’s on his knees on the cement floor. The position can’t be comfortable. But in a minute he’s panting, and then wriggling, and then swearing under his breath, and then staring at Bane as if he can’t understand why the hell Bane hasn’t touched his dick yet.  
  
“Tell me,” Bane says.  
  
Robin glares at him. He’s flushed and sweating and Bane wants to strip him naked and fuck him against the wall until neither of them can stand. “Touch me,” Robin says.  
  
“Where?”  
  
Robin swallows. Bane suspects that’s how he would look if Bane hit him in the face. Or slapped him on the ass. “My dick. I need you to touch my dick.”  
  
“You want to get off.”  
  
“Yeah. I need -”  
  
Bane takes a good grip on Robin’s cock and doesn’t find out what Robin needs him to do. Instead, he tells Robin about one of the dreams he’s had lately. Robin looks like he can’t believe it, or maybe that’s just because he’s about to come. He might be the loveliest thing Bane has ever fucked. He’s a fucking mess, and when he comes, leaving his load on Bane’s hand and stomach, it sounds like he’s about to start crying. But he doesn’t. He lets Bane settle him on the floor, on his back, so he can breathe, and lets Bane pet his stomach, and his balls, and then brush the tip of his forefinger in between Robin’s cheeks and against his hole. But he doesn’t push in. He pulls his hand back, tugs Robin’s softening cock back into the boxers and tells him he did well.  
  
“You didn’t come yet,” Robin says. He’s not looking at Bane now. He’s staring at the ceiling, still on his back on the floor.  
  
“Doesn’t matter.”  
  
Robin closes his eyes for a second. “I could have…” But he doesn’t seem to know what he could have, which is exactly right. He doesn’t.  
  
“I can’t fuck you here,” Bane tells him. “You remember how difficult it was the last time. And then we had lube and a bed. And time and privacy. And it hurt like hell anyway.”  
  
“It wasn’t that bad.”  
  
“Leave,” he says and reaches to touch Robin’s throat. He presses his fingertips lightly against the skin and feels Robin swallowing under his touch. “Go home. You’re a pretty thing. You shouldn’t be here.”  
  
Robin laughs in a broken voice.  
  
Five minutes later, Robin is gone and the cell is empty again. Bane pushes his hand into his pants and jerks off. There’s no reason to linger. John Blake doesn’t mean anything to him.  
  
  
**  
  
  
The next day, John Blake is there with the others who ask him meaningless questions and kick him in the groin when he doesn’t answer. John Blake doesn’t seem to like this part. He’s pretty and quiet and looks like he wants to throw up.  
  
“Sir,” the others say and ask if he wants to participate in kicking Bane in the groin, but he doesn’t. The others lose their confidence after that. Bane wants to tell him that’s unnecessary and throw everyone else out and fuck him. Robin’s lucky that they’ve chained him to the wall again.  
  
It doesn’t take long. Then they leave, and he lies on the floor and thinks about nothing.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Robin comes to his cell again. He’s not surprised. He watches as Robin opens the shutter and inspects him through it, probably trying to count the injuries. Then Robin closes the shutter and opens the door. Bane sits still in the corner as Robin locks the door after him with steady hands and then stops in the middle of the room.  
  
“You should find yourself a nicer boyfriend,” he says.  
  
“I don’t want a boyfriend.”  
  
“Yeah, you do.”  
  
“Fuck off,” Robin says. He sounds angry now. It’s adorable. It’s like watching a kitten lose its temper.  
  
“You’re a very pretty man, John Blake. You don’t need to come to a prison to look for company. You could try dating. I hear that there’re bars for people like you.”  
  
“People like me -”  
  
“Yeah, you know. Men who want to fuck men.”  
  
“I don’t -” Robin starts and then takes a deep breath. “What’re you playing at?”  
  
“If I was a free man,” Bane says, “someone else, living in this fucking city, I could be your boyfriend. I’d fix your car for you and watch television with you and then fuck you in your bed.”  
  
“You can’t fix a car.”  
  
“You don’t have a fucking clue what I can do.”  
  
Robin doesn’t answer. That’s clever. If he had answered, Bane might have given him a list. He’s killed people in ways that Robin could never imagine. But mostly, he’s kept it simple. Snap their neck or smash their skull, that kind of a thing. Whatever does the job.  
  
He takes a deep breath. There’s not even a bed in this bloody cell. If these people don’t soon enough put a bullet into his head, he’s going to find a way to do it himself. _Not even a fucking bed.  
_  
Robin takes a step at him, searching something from his pocket. Maybe it’s a gun.  
  
“Here,” Robin says, pulls his hand out of his pocket and throws something at Bane’s feet.  
  
Bane picks it up.  
  
“Do it slowly,” Robin says. His voice is flat like he’s rehearsed this. “I’ve been doing a little research. It doesn’t need to hurt.”  
  
“You’ve done a little research about what it’s supposed to be like to have someone’s cock in your ass.”  
  
“Yes,” Robin says and walks up to him. “And don’t tell me I’m crazy.”  
  
“You’re crazy,” he says. “Take off your trousers.”  
  
Robin does.  
  
“Onto the floor,” Bane says, and Robins sits down on the floor in front of him. His little face is perfectly serious. He’s fucking afraid, that’s what he is, and out of his mind, because he brought Bane _lube._  
  
Bane raises his hand and takes a light grip on Robin’s chin, then makes him tilt his head from side to side. Robin doesn’t like it but knows his head could get removed from his neck. A good boy. And his dick is showing some interest. Bane pushes the tip of his thumb against Robin’s mouth and, when Robin opens it, slides his thumb in.  
  
“Maybe I don’t want to fuck you,” he says.  
  
Robin doesn’t answer, probably because Bane’s thumb is resting on his tongue. Robin could bite him. If he really wanted to, he might be able to do some actual damage.  
  
“Or I could just use your mouth. Too bad it’s not big enough. I could dislocate your jaw and you’d have to show it to a doctor later.”  
  
Robin’s shivering now. Apparently Bane broke him.  
  
“Don’t,” he says, pulls his thumb out of Robin’s mouth and pets Robin’s cheek with the same thumb. “We aren’t going to do that. I’m not going to push my dick into your mouth.”  
  
Robin blinks.  
  
“But I hope you know that you have issues. You’re placing a lot of your trust on me, and dear, I’m completely untrustworthy.”  
  
“I don’t trust you,” Robin says.  
  
“You should also stop lying to yourself,” Bane says, but really, he wishes Robin’s not going to do that right now. “Lie down.”  
  
Robin stares at him.  
  
“I’m going to push my fingers into your ass. You need to lie down for that.”  
  
Well, he kind of knew he’s become compromised when it comes to John Blake. It’s not a surprise. He sits back and watches as the man lies down on his back on the cement floor, his feet almost poking at Bane’s left thigh. He took his shoes off when he got rid of his trousers but he’s still got his white socks on. They probably came with the uniform. Bane takes them off and keeps an eye on Robin’s cock that doesn’t seem to know what to think of all this. That’s okay. Bane throws the socks to the corner, grabs Robin’s knees and pushes them apart, until Robin’s sprawling for him a little more than is necessary. It’s just that the man’s so pretty.  
  
“Just breathe,” he tells Robin and pours lube onto his hand. Only when he’s settled in between Robin’s thighs and is pushing his forefinger into Robin’s hole, he remembers the polite thing to do would have been to warm the stuff first. “Easy,” he says, as Robin whimpers.  
  
“I don’t know,” Robin says, pressing his eyes shut. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t fucking… You don’t even _like_ me.”  
  
“Don’t be stupid,” Bane says. He’s already got his first finger there up to the second knuckle. Robin’s resisting him less than at the first time. “Of course I like you.”  
  
The sound Robin makes doesn’t sound like it’s voluntary.  
  
“Yeah,” Bane says, “what did you think? That I’m willing to fuck any cop who comes into my cell? Is that what you thought?” He crooks his finger just a little. Robin groans from pain, so he pulls the finger carefully back. And then pushes deeper again. “I would’ve killed you if I didn’t like you. That’s kind of my thing.”  
  
He pulls his fingers all the way back, makes sure there’s enough lube and pushes two back in. Robin looks like he’s trying not to cry out, so Bane places his free hand on the man’s stomach. The skin there is damp. He strokes his thumb back and forth over the line of coarse dark hair going down from Robin’s navel. Robin still has his shirt and coat on, but maybe that’s for the best. The floor is very cold.  
  
“I don’t know exactly why,” he says. Robin’s clenching around his two fingers but that’s alright, he’s not going anywhere. There’s no rush. “I don’t know why I like you. Except that you’re pretty. But there’s a lot of pretty things in the world.”  
  
“But -” Robin says and then draws in a sharp breath. Bane is about to tell him to stay quiet, he’s got enough on his plate as it is, trying to take Bane’s fingers in. He doesn’t need to talk too. But if he really wants to say something, Bane’s curious to know what. “But,” Robin tries again, “you’ve slept with men before, it’s not like I was…”  
  
 _Bloody hell._ “There’s no need to be jealous, darling.”  
  
“I’m not -”  
  
“Yeah?” he asks and crooks his two fingers again.  
  
Robin’s panting now but he seems determined. “Not… _jealous._ ”  
  
“Well, that’s good, because you don’t need to be,” Bane says and reaches to touch his mouth and then pet his hair. Only for a moment. Only because he’s being so good about this. “You’re being very good.”  
  
“I’m not a fucking… What’re you doing?”  
  
Bane slicks his fingers with lube and pushes three of them back in.  
  
“ _Bane_ ,” Robin says. Sounds like he’s begging, but it’s unclear for what.  
  
“Shhh,” Bane says and takes a loose grip on his cock. “It’s going to be over soon.”  
  
Robin groans.  
  
Of course he likes Robin. He shouldn’t but he’s too tired to keep lying to himself. He tries to fit three fingers into Robin’s ass without hurting Robin too much, and he slows down every time Robin seems to cross the line from discomfort to pain. And Robin doesn’t even ask him to. Robin doesn’t tell him to stop. Robin doesn’t tell him to be nice about it. He just is. And when he finally decides he’s prepared Robin well enough, he makes sure there’s plenty of lube and then tells Robin it’s going to be alright, before settling the tip of his dick against Robin’s hole and pushing right in.  
  
Robin goes very quiet.  
  
“It’s going to get better. In a few seconds. Remember?”  
  
Robin opens his eyes and stares at Bane, then tries to look down his body, the point where Bane’s cock disappears in between his cheeks. He doesn’t look like he remembers anything. He looks just lost.  
  
“Hey,” Bane says, staying still. “You liked it the last time we did this.”  
  
Robin glances at his face again, his mouth open and his eyes wide.  
  
“I think you did, because you brought me lube today,” Bane says. “If you didn’t, you’ve got more issues than I thought.”  
  
“Just -” Robin says, his voice strained. He swallows. “Slowly -”  
  
“You’re being good,” Bane tells him, pulls back and pushes in again. “Very good. Look at me.”  
  
Robin doesn’t close his eyes again.  
  
It’s not easy to fuck Robin gently. But he does it. He keeps fucking into Robin so slowly he doubts neither of them is going to get off this year. But then finally Robin starts pushing against him and groaning with more demand than pain in his voice. Robin’s legs are shaking and he’s trying to touch himself, but Bane bats his hand away and grabs his dick. It’s familiar in his hand. Just a dick. But Robin’s face isn’t just a face. Robin keeps his eyes open and on Bane until finally Bane fucks into him so hard that he starts coming himself, and he has to speed up his hand on Robin’s dick so that Robin can catch on, and then he does. He spills on Bane’s hand and goes limp on the floor, and Bane pulls away as carefully as he can at this state. At least Robin’s not bleeding.  
  
“Fuck,” Robin says, his eyes still closed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”  
  
Bane lies next to him on the floor and pets his hair until he falls silent.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Robin doesn’t show up for the next interrogation. That’s a little annoying. They fucked, didn’t they? Bane fucked him and he came and he was looking Bane in the eyes while Bane had his dick buried in his hole, so certainly it’s a bit rude not to show up the next day. Even if he’s so sore that walking hurts. And he might not be. There was a lot of lube.  
  
But later on the same day or possibly the next one, Robin is at the door again. Bane sits on the floor as Robin opens it, sneaks in and locks the door. Bane waits until Robin’s flushed bright red, and then he tells Robin to get onto the floor. He makes Robin get his dick out and get it hard, and only then he leans over and takes Robin’s dick in his mouth. Robin comes in less than a minute with a surprised moan. Then he tries to be polite about it, but Bane traps his wrists with one hand and uses the other to jerk himself off. He comes on Robin’s stomach and shirt. When he tugs Robin’s trousers back up again and closes the zipper, there’s his cum stuck in Robin’s pubic hair. He didn’t know he’d be into that, but it’s a nice surprise.  
  
“Bane,” Robin says, when he’s on his feet again. He looks pained. It could be because he got fucked in the ass recently, but he didn’t look that stiff fifteen minutes ago when he walked in here.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“They’re planning the trial,” Robin says and rubs his nose. He looks unhappy. “It’s the next week.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Don’t you have… don’t you have anything you could say that would… explain it? So that you wouldn’t end…”  
  
“No,” he says. Robin leaves him in the cell and he sleeps better than in a while.  
  
  
**  
  
  
The next time Commissioner Gordon comes to see Bane, Robin’s there too. He looks nervous and pretty and he’s avoiding Bane’s gaze.  
  
“He’s not going to talk,” Commissioner Gordon says to Robin. He’s standing too close to Robin, as if they’re old friends or family. Bane’s trying not to notice. “We’ve tried everything… and don’t look at me like that, I know our _everything_ hasn’t been ideal, but there’re some lines we wouldn’t cross -”  
  
“Are you sure, sir?” Robin asks in a thin voice.  
  
The commissioner is quiet for a moment. “Well, anyway, he’s not going to talk to us, John. And there has to be a trial. We can’t push it off any longer.”  
  
“It’s going to be a circus.”  
  
“People want justice,” the commissioner says. He sounds tired.  
  
“ _Justice_ ,” Robin repeats.  
  
They leave soon after. Robin doesn’t look back as he walks out of Bane’s cell. The guards who leave last kick him on the stomach before they release him from the chains. He rests his head against the wall, closes his eyes and thinks about how he’s going to fuck Robin in the ass if Robin comes to him again. The next week, they said. There’s plenty of time.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“I’m not gay,” Robin says.  
  
“I - don’t - fucking - _care_ -” Bane says. He’s trying to get his dick into Robin’s ass and Robin’s just too tight. He’s rushing it, he knows that, but Robin’s been talking about the trial ever since he stepped into Bane’s cell, and it’s annoying as hell. Bane doesn’t want to think about the trial. The trial is the end. What’s left for him before the end is the voices Robin makes when he doesn’t know if it’s pain or pleasure that’s making him groan.  
  
“I don’t -” Robin says. He’s on his elbows and knees on the floor, hanging his head low. He takes a sharp breath as Bane shifts the angle. “I don’t know why -”  
  
“Shut the fuck up,” Bane says and puts the flat of his palm on Robin’s back, in between his shoulder blades. Maybe that’ll calm him down. He’s clenching around Bane’s dick as if his asshole is trying to prove something. This is the wrong time to talk about his sexuality. This is the wrong time to talk about anything, and there’s not going to be a right time, but that doesn’t mean that they should -  
  
Footstep on the corridor.  
  
There’re footsteps on the corridor.  
  
“What -” Robin says, and then he hears them too, Bane can tell. But it’s too late. Someone opens the shutter and looks into the cell.  
  
Bane sits back on the floor and pulls Robin with him. Then, before Robin can say anything, or before the guards on the door can say anything, he wraps his fingers around Robin’s throat. Robin tilts his head back - well, there’s not much else that he could do, with Bane’s thumb pressing against his windpipe. Bane knows what that feels like. It’s not pleasant.  
  
“ _John_ ,” someone says from the door.  
  
It’s the commissioner.  
  
Of course it’s the fucking commissioner.  
  
“Gordon,” Robin says, and Bane feels it against his fingers.  
  
“Quiet,” he says and presses Robin’s throat with his thumb just enough that Robin coughs once. “If anyone comes to this cell,” he says, “I will kill John Blake. If anyone tries to shoot me, I will kill Blake. If anyone asks for backup, I will kill Blake. If anyone moves a fucking finger or says one fucking word, I will kill Blake. It’s going to be the easy part. I already got him this far.”  
  
He can hear nothing except Robin’s frantic breathing and his own fucking heart. Through the shutter, Commissioner Gordon is looking at him - no, the man’s looking at Robin.  
  
“Nod if you understand,” Bane says.  
  
Gordon nods.  
  
“Great,” Bane says, easing his grip on Robin’s throat. But he doesn’t let go. He’s never known Robin to be a sensible man. “Now, I will do what I was doing when I was so rudely interrupted. And then I’ll tell you what else is going to happen. If you do what I say, John Blake is going to walk out of this cell alive.”  
  
Gordon nods again. He looks like he’s frozen in place. That’s the same look parents have when their kids are taken or killed.  
  
Bane blinks. “Close the shutter.”  
  
Gordon closes it.  
  
Robin takes a deep breath.  
  
Bane leaves his right hand on Robin’s throat but brushes Robin’s chin with his thumb. Robin hasn’t shaved this morning. He’s trembling and shaking in Bane’s hands and around his dick, but he keeps quiet, when Bane wraps his left arm around his waist and pushes him up a few inches just to pull him down into his lap again. It’s an awkward position and it’s making his knees ache and he’s pretty sure Robin’s aching much more. But Robin stays quiet. Bane pets his chin with one hand and with the other, moves him up and down again to meet his dick. He wants to tell Robin that he’s being good, he’s being so good in a less than ideal situation. He’s taking Bane’s dick so well. And when he cries out, that’s perfect too - it sounds like he’s in pain, and he probably is, and if the bastards at the door ever have doubts about his loyalty, they’re going to think about this moment and pity him so much they’ll never voice their doubts. Robin’s going to be alright. And he cries out again when Bane grips his dick and speeds up his hand, and he’s leaking, and trembling, and panting, and when he starts to come on Bane’s hand, Bane fucks into him so hard there’s no question that he’s groaning from pain.  
  
Bane gives him a few seconds to catch his breath, then carefully pulls his cock out and drags them both up onto their feet.  
  
“Commissioner Gordon? Open the shutter.”  
  
The commissioner opens the shutter. He looks like he’s going to throw up. He also looks like the only thing keeping him from shooting Bane in the head is that he’d have to shoot Robin first. Bane keeps his hand on Robin’s throat and the other one on Robin’s waist. It’s too bad that they’re both naked but there’s nothing to do about it now. He needs to get out.  
  
“I will walk out of here,” Bane says, “with him. And if you let me do that, you’ll get him back alive. Otherwise, I could just snap his neck right now.”  
  
At least Gordon is looking him in the eyes now. He brushes his thumb against Robin’s throat, Robin draws in a sharp breath, and Gordon nods.  
  
“Good,” Bane says. “Now, open the door and then start walking back that corridor. Slowly. And never leave my sight, or he’s dead.”  
  
Gordon nods again and opens the door.  
  
It turns out this is the tricky part.  
  
Everything happens too slowly. That’s hard to stand. Robin’s doing everything Bane wants, moving exactly where Bane pushes him to, and the look on Commissioner Gordon’s face makes it absolutely clear that he’s not going to let anything happen to Robin. Bane’s going to walk out of here. It’s going to happen. But it’s happening so _slowly_ , and he can feel Robin’s breaths against his chest, and the warmth of Robin’s skin, and when Robin swallows, he feels it against his fingers. He wants to kill everyone else and turn Robin to face him and make sure he’s alright. He wants to wipe away the cum that must be on Robin’s stomach and on his thighs, stuck in the hair. He wants to pet Robin’s throat and make sure there’s no harm done there. He wants to wait and then bring Robin off again, slowly this time, with less pain, with no audience and no hand on Robin’s throat.  
  
He keeps his hands steady and follows Gordon and the guards through the hallways and stairs, and through more hallways, and through gates and doors, and they all open. Gordon sends everyone away. He looks desperate, like he’d do anything for Robin. Bane can’t exactly blame him for that, but he’s going to use it. Of course he is. If he gets caught now, Gordon is going to do his best to make the rest of his short life as unbearable as possible. But that’s not going to happen. He’s not going to get caught. He’s holding the key.  
  
He tightens his grip on Robin but tries to be gentle about it.  
  
The air outside is cold, colder than he thought, but he barely registers it. Robin is shaking again, but he’s being brave about it. Bane holds him as close as he can and asks for a motorcycle, and they bring it to him, and then Gordon watches with all the hatred of the world in his eyes as Bane lifts Robin on the bike with him. Let them wonder if they’re prepared to shoot Robin to catch him. But he already knows the answer.  
  
He starts driving.  
  
It doesn’t feel much like freedom.  
  
At first he’s afraid Robin might take his chances and jump, but Robin stays there, a heavy weight against his bare back.  
  
Damn lucky that it’s not the winter yet.  
  
He can hear a helicopter following them, but they can’t get him in the sewers.  
  
It’s too dark, and for once or twice he thinks he’s taken the wrong turn and is going to mash them both against the wall. That doesn’t happen.  
  
He wants to ask Robin to say something, anything, but doesn’t.  
  
He takes one more turn, and then they’re back in the daylight. They cross the bridge. He can hear the helicopter but it’s far behind, in the wrong direction. It’s too slow. Everyone else is too slow.  
  
He stops the bike in a quiet alley.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Hey,” Robin says. He’s shaking and hugging himself.  
  
Bane stops. “Someone’s going to help you. Just get somewhere warm.”  
  
Robin opens his mouth and then closes it again.  
  
“Thanks,” Bane says and breathes out. “Sorry.”  
  
Then he gets on the bike again, alone.

**Author's Note:**

> So. You might have spotted a plot hole. Let's just say that sadly, Gotham city has had severe financial difficulties because of the demanding times lately and so there just isn't enough money to put a security camera in the cell of the most wanted terrorist they've ever locked in there. Or maybe John Blake is a very advanced hacker and managed to hack the camera without anyone noticing. I don't know.
> 
> There's going to be one more story to this series, as an epilogue. I'll post it soon. Meanwhile, [my tumblr](http://toyhto.tumblr.com).


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